


The River Flow

by manaika



Category: Black Blood Brothers
Genre: Death References, Implied Character Death, Implied Sexual Content, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, M/M, One Sentence, Secret Relationship, vampire issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-04
Updated: 2013-05-04
Packaged: 2017-12-10 10:07:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/784850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manaika/pseuds/manaika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jiirou and Zelman in the many aspects of their relationship. Made for lj’s 1sentence, theme set Delta, originaly in 2011.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The River Flow

**Author's Note:**

> So. Here's my first Jiirou/Zelman challenge-fic-thingy. I have decided to make it myself even more of a challenge and not mention the actual prompts in the entire sentence. I hope the sentences make sense...some of them are over five lines long.
> 
> I have been jumping between the prompts pretty much, so it might look like they are pretty random – well, they are not. I divided them into groups an dthey make sense within them – if you looked, you would notice a certain connection.
> 
> The groups are: Air+Fire Earth+Water Wood+Metal; Beginning End; Summer+Winter Spring+Fall; New Old; Pretty Ugly Strange; Stable+Flexible Hollow+Solid; Dark Light; Peace War; Head Foot; Hope Despair; Snow Rain;Drink+Food Coffee+Apples; Honor Duty; Doors Welcome; Secret Taboo; Poison Green; Snakes Bugs Roses; Grave Regret; Lost Flying
> 
> 20 are in Zelman's POV, 20 in Jiirou's and 10 are general, though some may seem as something Jiirou and some as something that Zelman would think.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Black Blood Brothers. If I did, Zelman would have died in Jiirou's arms...if he had died at all.

**#01** **-** **Air**

The wind whipped his face, ashes flying around him in a blazing inferno, and all he could do was scream and cut and cut and cut, helpless against the sheer force of nature, but when the last flames burned down, the whip became a carress of a gentle breeze.

**#02** **–** **Apples**

In the olden days it was believed to be the fruit that had caused the evil to spread across the world, the fruit of temptation, the fruit of death...and as he sank his fangs into the sweet, red temptation and handed it to his partner, he somehow could understand why.

**#03** **–** **Beginning**

They had met once, when those of their kind assembled for one last battle, when there was fight and blood of their own flowing on the dirty streets of Hong Kong...and it were those streets of Hong Kong when they met again, in a dark mansion locked away from prying eyes, things different this time, as different as the silver blade's words, when he paid him his honors, standing eye to eye, not side by side, a new story unfolding.

**#04** **-** **Bugs**

If someone had told him that the red eyed murderer found little insects unpleasent, he would have laughed them out, but as he saw the sneer on the handsom face as he pulled out a small electronic device, that had without doubt transmitted every single sound they had made the night before, he couldn't but share the opinion.

**#05** **–** **Coffee**

The sage had always prefered tea, with as many sugar and milk as possible, she had never liked the brown, bitter liquid, she despised the taste...but as a certain red eyed prince poured the two cups and wet hotness slid down his throat, he found himself disagreeing with his mother for once.

**#06** **–** **Dark**

No human was completely good, just as no vampire was completely evil; there was no right without a wrong and no wrong without a right; and good was not always right and bad just sometimes wrong; and often the line between oposites would fade and they would be just them, good and wrong, right and bad...but sometimes the thin line would be a wide border neither of them could cross and everything was bad and wrong.

**#07** **–** **Despair**

The Hero of Hong Kong had never been one to give up easily, even if everyone told him that it was impossible to win,- his determination was stronger than any feeling of hopelessness...but when he saw deep hurt in those crimson eyes, hurt that had never been shown to any man and anger raging like an inferno, his world and his hopes all but shattered.

**#08** **-** **Doors**

What they did once every entry to the room was closed, was just between them and sheets, hidden in the darkness of the room, the curtains drawn, neither the host nor the guest to be seen by prying eyes, no one else welcomed in their small circle, the entrance not opening to anyone, but them.

**#09** **–** **Drink**

Coke was the best invention of the new age, Zelman thought as he threw a can at his lover, cold and refreshing, coffeine containing and not dehydrating, just perfect to give to that little runt when they came to visit him and ideal to sip on as they talked things over.

**#10** **–** **Duty**

Silver Blade had several responsibilities to manage, tasks he had to fullfill no matter the price – watch out for his little brother and Mimiko, keep guard over the bones, protect those that were dear to him and lastly, protect the Sage with all of his might and return what rightously belonged to her, one day – they were all responsibilities that served the greater good and they were something that kept him alive and gave his life a meaning...but at the same time, they prevented him from having what could make his life whole and happy; the heart of the Prince with the eyes of the color of blood.

**#11** **–** **Earth**

It was where they came from – the first people made of the clay, made of the ground they later walked on, stamping their own roots, their own beliefs, their own pride, laying to vaste everything, but in the end it was where they returned, even after being banned from life and humanity, as the ashes settled down and covered the clay ground.

**#12** **–** **End**

Battles were still fought and fights sought out, the bloody history of their kind unevitably repeating itself...only this time there was more blood, blood that never should have been shed, blood once boiling with fire now running cold, flowing on the dirty street of Hong Kong, the dark mansion burned down to ashes, the handsom body falling apart in his arms...and yet, time didn't stop, the world kept spinning, the battle continuing, the stories unfolding...but one.

**#13** **–** **Fall**

As he saw the beautifull leaves of early autum descend to the ground, he couldn't but think they were like them, after having lived for a long time, after seeing the seasons change, after the spirit of their life drained from them, leaving them painted in shades of red, they spread their wings for one last flight of youth, one last play with the wind before they touched the cold ground.

**#14** **–** **Fire**

„Burn, burn, burn it all down," he yelled and upon his command, everything was alit, blazing with scorching flames, the earth, the skies, his body, his eyes glowing with ignite as everything burned, untill nothing remained, but ashes, slashed by a silver blade.

**#15** **–** **Flexible**

It never ceased to surprise him, how in spite of 800 years of age, the legend of the dark age could still bend his back so far and call out in such a powerfull voice, that it rung like a command in his ears, and all he could do was obey and come for his elder.

**#16** **–** **Flying**

The first time a man had leapt into the air it had been unbelievable; the first time he had leapt into the air it was undescribable; the first time he had been brought to the heights of orgasm he felt like a bird; the first time he had been brought to the highest peak by Silver Blade, it was like a metamorphose, a transformation, his entire being changing and he  _was_  a free bird.

**#17** **–** **Food**

It was as they were dining outside one evening, that Jiirou decided to ask, hoping for an answer, and the answer he got, a cold whisper against the roasted meat, raw as the steak between them, raw as the soul that broke like the plate as he shot up from his seat.

**#18** **–** **Foot**

He had always openly acknowledged that Zelman was hot and knew how enhance it,- a fashionable hat to cover the blond roots poking from beneath crimson locks, a short jacket to broaden his otherwise lean frame and tight jeans to show a hint of long, well-shaped legs, that wrapped themselves with surprising strength around his hips and he thrust forward.

**#19** **–** **Grave**

The thirteenth yard left an unpleasent feeling in him everytime he decided to visit, but after everything turned to ash and the last ignite flame burned down, there was another place of frequent visits, that left him with a far worse feeling than the bones of the ancestor ever could.

**#20** **–** **Green**

The son of the Sage had always been close to the nature; the colors of a summer field reminding him of the life he wanted to protect; the scent of the fresh grass bringing images of something new to him, of a rebirth, of a love lost and found; the warmth of the day like the warmth of the embrace he found himself in, when they lied underneath the tree in full bloom.

**#21** **-** **Head**

He had always, secretly of course, thought that Jiirou, through all of his blind loyalty was very sharp and cunning – just as he had always thought, also secretly, that beneath the bad taste in clothes and that ugly hat, very attractive,- with raven locks falling freely over his shoulders, dark eyes sparkling, reminding him much of the nightsky shining with a billion of stars, a sharp chin, straight nose and beautifull lips, so perfect when they leaned into a kiss.

**#22** **–** **Hollow**

It was when Asura bit him that he felt it – the dumb nothingness consuming him whole, burning his insides, burning his life, draining him untill everything in him that was once good and alive turned to ashes...but when Jiirou's lips carressed the faded marks only he saw, and the burning flames of passion consumed him, he felt filled to the core.

**#23** **–** **Honor**

The red eyed killer had always been proud of his ancient lineage – of his blood that made him a living legend, his blood that gave him great power, blood that enabled him to kill without breaking a sweat – it was blood that turned a naive boy into a ruthless man and helped him survive so many times, it was the only thing in life he could completely trust...but at the same time, it was the blood that kept him from obtaining the one thing in his life he wanted more than power; the trust of Silver Blade.

**#24** **–** **Hope**

They never had many prospects, and nearly no one gave them any chance and the red-eyed murderer wasn't a fool to not see their reasons,- but when the end came, he found that it hurt too much to simply accept it...because deep down in his black heart had been a person who saw their chances, tiny as they were.

**#25** **–** **Light**

Not every vampire was completely evil, just as not every human was completely good; there was no day without night and no night without day,- the thin line between two total oposites often blurred, or disappaered completely – and that was the place they met hallfway, two oposites, one of them seemingly a holy white, the other pitch black in his heart...but neither of them was the absolute right and neither of them the absolute wrong, both of their hearts holding both good and evil...and that was what made them meet and meld, that was what made them right.

**#26** **–** **Lost**

Sometimes he couldn't tell what the Prince with the eyes of the color of blood was thinking and many times the answer he was looking for in those ignite eyes could not be grasped, like something he had held once, but let go of it and now it was out of reach; but then there were times when they both spoke the same language, and suddenly all of the answers were found.

**#27** **–** **Metal**

If he was silver, Zelman was lead, sharp and heavy against his chest, like a bullet, leaving a deep mark, engraving itself in his memory, never to be forgotten, every time there, when one would look back into the mirror of the past, not able to hide anything.

**#28** **–** **New**

The feeling was something known to them both and yet it was something neither of them expierienced in the centuries of their existence, through the ancient times and the new age, both of them beginners at something different, learning from one another.

**#29** **–** **Old**

There was the sixhundred years age difference between them that made them see sometimes things differently, but in the end, what counted was the ancient lineage of their bloodlines.

**#30** **–** **Peace**

They were living in good times now, where fight and violence were pushed back and they could relax in each other's arms if only for a moment, enjoying the serenity of a simple day, like it could be the last...and even if it was, even if these times of serene days didn't last long, when he looked into the eyes of fierce fire, he knew there would be done everything to make them last.

**#31** **-** **Poison**

The descendant of Assura had not always disliked cold colors, like sky blue, or esmerald green; but now one reminded him of what he missed, the other made him painfully aware of what he couldn't have; the clear skies of a warm summer day, the fresh grass in the fields, the scent of life around him...one time he had truly loved them, but now – the liquid in the glas was green, much like the grass had been, but this time the scent wasn't of life, but the one of death.

**#32** **–** **Pretty**

One day Jiirou told him „I would like to see you blond" and the reaction he got was not something anyone would like to remember, but the next time the son of the sage visited, the descendant of Asura didn't wear his hat and platinum roots were peaking out from under the crimson locks...and this time his reaction to the things that were said was much better.

**#33** **-** **Rain**

When heavy dropplets hit the ground and the grey of the skies mirrored the grey of his own eyes, he liked to cover between the sheets, enjoying the dry of a shelter and the warmth of a familiar body and a feeling that seemed eternities away came back to him – home.

**#34** **–** **Regret**

If one lived for eight centuries he collected many memories – some pleasent, more of them less and then there were those he didn't like to remember, memories of pain and lost chances and choices that made him want to turn back time...like now, when the wheel of time didn't stop turning and the last moments of an eighthundred years long journey came to an end, and he thought of words he had never spoken and never would, because the wheel of time kept turning...and he fell to the ashes with an untold word on his lips.

**#35** **-** **Roses**

They were flowers that had thorns, beautiful yet fickle, ready to strike when you weren't prepared, dangerously sweet...but when one day there was a bouquet of red flowers instead of a red cape and black hair shown in his face, he couldn't but welcome the sweet scent of danger.

**#36** **–** **Secret**

No one was ever supposed to know about what they had, no one should have known what they did when the doors were closed and darkness fell, and when the eyes of ignite hid behind thick lashes and silent understanding passed between them, he knew that this rare jewel, a piece of that heart, was something he would like to keep just for himself.

**#37** **–** **Snakes**

There was always some serpent, some kind of viper, that wouldn't leave them alone, intriguing against them, crossing their ways, biting untill they withered and died, but their blood was stronger than a viper's poison and in the end, it was them that were victorious, the strength of their bonded blood defeating the deadly serpent.

**#38** **–** **Snow**

High up in the polnish mountains, where the blizzard was merciless, a white blanketcovered the peaks, pure as the hearts of the people living there, pure as his heart had once been, before his innocence was ripped away from him and he was forced to leave behind everything, only to find it again, in the far city of Hong Kong, in the strong arms of his kind, in the darkness of the night, when he finally admitted to himself the pureness of his feelings.

**#39** **–** **Solid**

It wasn't something to be grasped, like a ghost, but it was not the dream of the Eve, or the illusion that Alice gave him when she kissed him for the first time either...at the very least, with Zelman it was real and in his arms, it was pain and it was pleasure and it was whole.

**#40** **–** **Spring**

They were like the petals of the first bloom, he thought as he watched them unfold their beauty, waking up once again in full youth and strength, ready to explore what laid before them, a new circle of life starting, watching the seasons change together.

**#41** **–** **Stable**

They were threading through dangerous grounds, he knew that, the ground beneath them shaking, but with the arms of the hero of Hong Kong wrapped around him safely, when his whole world was blurring and he was drowning in passion, he felt safe.

**#42** **–** **Strange**

It was curious how two such opposites fit together so perfectly, how two people so differend understood each other wordlessly, how someone so old could settle for someone so young, how someone with such a distinguished fashion sense could bear someone with such a bad sense for fashion; how a hero could hang around such a sociopath, how such a humble person could go for someone so pompous – those were questions and doubts haunting their minds, but once they blended into each other, once day became night, when young became old, when there was no fashion to wear, when their past deeds didn't matter,- then it all made sense.

**#43** **–** **Summer**

Jiirou suited the Sun, Zelman decided, even if his lover couldn't bear it as it burned down his body, shedding him of his life force, his body withering like a flower, slowly dieing away, while the wheel of light kept scorching them, at the highest peak of it's strength.

**#44** **–** **Taboo**

They never spoke about it, the actual words never falling between them, like a forbidden charm, that could destroy everything they had, but looking into eyes of old, used up, tired silver, the exhausted truth hung between them and they knew...and so it was left unspoken.

**#45** **–** **Ugly**

One day Zelman told him „Red is not your color" and it made him turn around and leave...but when there was a knock on his door at midnight hour, and ignite eyes staring in his own grey, silver blade decided that the prince with the eyes of the color of blood might be the right one to judge that.

**#46** **–** **War**

The time of the legendary age was a dark aera, full of blood and violence and red, as he would remember, an age of stolen innocence and lost virtue, where the only thing that counted was fight and battle, and really, in his opinion things didn't get better, just more subtle,...but yet, when he looked into eyes of silvery mist and a long-cold stone in his chest went ablaze, he found himself tempted to believe otherwise.

**#47** **–** **Water**

They were like two opposites, like the day and the night, like the light and the dark, like ice and flame and yet still they melted together, like they were made for each other, as if they were just simple drops in the waste ocean of life.

**#48** **–** **Welcome**

His second visit was unplanned and it's outcome left them both by surprise, but in the end it might have been fate when the surprise was overcome by a pleasent feeling and a smirk spread across a handsom face, a single pointed fang peeking out from behind tempting lips, as the host decided to becon the guest in.

**#49** **–** **Winter**

It was strange how snow suited Zelman, Jiirou thought as he watched the Lord of Fire bens down and take a handfull of the white substance, watching it melt away untill nothing remained but a puddle of crystal water, while from the grey of the skies small flocks fell down on the dead ground of old age.

**#50** **–** **Wood**

In the darkness of the Poland's mountains and the black depths of Bavaria's Schwarzwald, laid things long hidden, long gone, long burried, memories scattered in ashes across the dark trees and yet breathing down his neck, yet alive, visiting him in his dreams, in the darkness of his room...but in the busy streets of the sunlit special zone, where the line between darkness and light was always blurred, when one met the other, they finally withered and died.


End file.
